


Nightcap

by SuperDuperJacket



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Late Night Conversations, Probably very corny but who cares man?, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, This is also called: they're my faves so thus I ship them, this is just to be soft for softness sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperDuperJacket/pseuds/SuperDuperJacket
Summary: night·cap | \ ˈnīt-ˌkapa drink (usually alcoholic) taken at the end of the day or before going to bed.--After weeks of casual conversations and apprehension came the first date at an old Pizza joint. There, a long-winded date of awkward questions and lingering glances turn into a night-time whiskey tasting. A time of starting new and making memories.Modern!Verse RudTi ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Rude
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> It took me about... +3 weeks to fully write this out and plot this out. Most of that time was spent researching whiskey. I'm dedicated to the art of fanfic writing. 
> 
> Jack and I briefly touched on Modern!Verse FFVII, and so I wanted to write a fic loosely-based on some stuff we talked about. Considering I'm in love with Tifa being in love with people, I wanted to write a few fics for a few ships in this verse. Thus leading to this one and my weeks of turmoil writing, since RudTi doesn't get much love and me wanting to give that love before I delve into AeriTi and never come back.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy some slow-burn, awkward romance goodness!

When did it start-- was it the first hello, or at the consistent meetings at the same, niche coffee shop every morning? Love, at first sight, was a lie, but captivation at a glance seemed more viable for Tifa Lockhart. She often wondered about the lives of those around her but doesn’t intrude. She didn't see the need to; there was contentment in observation. Oftentimes, the stories in her head seemed more interesting than the individuals around. She didn’t need to interfere with the plot -- she knew the script by heart.

But, Tifa’s mind often wandered to those off-beat moments. Like her casual encounter with the stranger standing in line next to her. Almost in the wee hours of every morning, they stood in the same spots, got the same orders, and went to their same routines. It seems in those smaller moments, they were content in living by their lines and staying on beat. All until that stranger named Rude missed his step, and spilled cold coffee beneath her feet. It’s in that beat, the script changed.

Those passing moments in silence before became small talk soon after. The small talk became short visits during lunch breaks, then long conversations after hours. The behavior was enough for Barret and the children to start bombarding her with questions about "that new stranger". Soon, Aerith began her own cyber investigation on him and his friend, “the snotty looking red-head”. Even her father gave out pieces of advice here and there, calmly saying she should “punch him in the throat if things fall through”. It’s all everyone around her could talk about, and all she could think about.

Their interactions up to this point were careful to a fault. They were both ones to admire from a distance, but never to pursue. Tifa noticed a consistency in his actions, like his hesitancy when he speaks to her or the idleness in his posture near her. All signs of possible disinterest that worried her. Yet, he initiated the lunch visits, and daily check-ins after work, albeit stilted. He showed care in his awkward movements, and for the first couple of weeks, it worked with her casual crush.

Until that crush turned into genuine attraction. There, she got scared.

That didn’t stop her stray text last night: _how was work today?_

> _Went well; just got home after a long day.  
>  Sorry I didn’t answer sooner. Had a lot going on._
> 
> _thats cool! hopefully it wasn’t too stressful; hope  
>  reno didn’t leave too much paperwork for ya,  
>  I know you had a problem with that yesterday :/_
> 
> _He’s been kind to me today. But, knowing him, he  
>  may want some payment in return._
> 
> _huh, guess reno and I are more similar than I thought,  
>  cause I may want something too! :-)_
> 
> _What do you need?_
> 
> _some of your time tomorrow night? I know a good pizza place  
>  a block from my place -- seventh heaven, you’ve heard of it?_
> 
> _Reno has. Haven’t been to that side of town in a while._
> 
> _well then I’d love to take you there! there's no  
>  better way of ending a long work week than a  
>  cheap slice and some good company_
> 
> _if you don’t mind._
> 
> _Sorry, I had to take a quick phone call.  
>  And I wouldn’t mind at all. _
> 
> _then it's a date! i'll text you the address after work tmrrw --  
>  meet me there at 7pm. see you then! :-)_
> 
> _Sounds great.  
> _

========================


	2. The Result

> _Then it's a date! i'll text you the address after work -- _  
> meet me there at 7pm. see you then :-)__
> 
> _Sounds great_.
> 
> * * *

Was that too cold? Maybe he should have added something more to his message? Rude was a man of few words. Yet, when it came to Tifa Lockhart, he ended up forgetting the entire dictionary. As cool as he seemed, his brain often rattled trying to find the right approach, much less find the right words. The technical approach got him far most times, but the moment he saw the word ‘date’, Rude realized he was in trouble.

Even in their smaller moments, Tifa’s energy expanded beyond his simple world. He took a tiny spot in her expansive universe of connections and personality. If anything, he was amazed even to grab small bits of her time, blessed by the fortunate approach she made weeks ago. Rude didn’t understand why she talked to him in the mornings, but it influenced him to see her in the afternoon. Never did he think they’d get together in the evening as well.

His shirt’s collar seemed to tighten up every second he stood outside of the rustic diner. The city street flooded his eardrums with a storm of conversations and passing vehicles. This, bundled with the flickering street lights and random metallic clangs from building pipes, the area developed a distinguished tone to it. Alongside the racket, Reno blew up his phone, requesting him to " _act normal for once, just for tonight."_ Each text that came through were acknowledged but ignored.

Rude’s head muddled over “acting normal”. If anything, going on this date was the most normal thing he could do. He accepted it in stride, without any disruptions or guidance from his gadfly of a friend. There’s no need to update him on the play-by-play.

But, Rude did anyway:

> _I’ll be fine. Stop worrying._
> 
> _says mr. “i need to call u rn” after  
> _ _getting asked out; what are u? 12?_
> 
> _ur so cute believing i worry abt u._
> 
> _Stop it._
> 
> _hey, if it doesn’t work out, you can always  
> _ _come back to me 👀_
> 
> _really though, how are you feeling? you  
> _ _didn’t show up dressed for a board meeting  
> _ _right?_

Rude looked away from his phone briefly to note his expensive loafers against the worn, cracked concrete. Alongside the note on how his ironed out button-up looked visibly untouched as if freshly bought. Added with his dark glasses reflecting faces that passed him by, the word "relax" couldn't come close. He differed from standard flannel, tees, and sweatpants that walked far from him on the sidewalk, and that helped to stiffen his posture. The only “casual” aspect of his entire wardrobe was the worn leather jacket he has long borrowed from someone else.

> _I look fine._
> 
> _you’re hopeless, rudy  
> _ _next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you showed  
> _ _up an hour before her_

Rude checked his watch.

> _I’m only early by fifteen minutes._
> 
> _ruudy_ 😩 _you gotta be cool, not desperate_
> 
> _you’ve been seeing this girl for WEEKS now, least you_  
>  _can do is stop acting like a shy teenager and just get  
> _ _in there_ 😈
> 
> _plus she doesn’t think you’re a weirdo-- so your chances  
> _ _are astronomical_
> 
> 🙌 _you can’t possibly fuck this up while i’m here_

The taller man stood timidly against the building’s bricks, sticking out like a sore thumb against the passerby. A stern look crossed his features as he slid his phone back into his pocket; his eyes crossing paths with other glances that looked over in doubt. People around took a purposeful step to create distance from him. New assumptions flew with each passerby, but he was too preoccupied with the buzzing of his phone. The flurry of Reno’s texts grew alongside the apprehension of her arrival, leaving him constrained in his actions. Was this worth it??

Rude never built up the courage to properly ask her out as she could. Since their chance meeting months ago, he couldn’t move to Tifa’s beat, always taking two steps back to her one step towards him. It was a respectful distance, arms stretched out too hesitant to get close but yearning to pull her in. She had a natural flow to her walk, her talk, and personality-- like music to his ears that left him humming a reminiscent tune. So much so that it mesmerized him, made him lose the words on the tip of his tongue, lost in the lyrics of her energy. The reluctance made him stumble as he followed her lead, missing the same note over and over. He often interrupted their dance autonomously, without much thought.

Even now, Rude felt like he had no guide for being the lead. There was no real point if there wasn’t music to follow. . And it wouldn’t surprise him if this became a solo sooner than later. His confidence lied in simply humming her tune distantly.

“Hey, Rude!”

Yet it seemed louder than what he could imagine.. Rude moved away from the brick wall to face the absent voice. He barely got to catch a breath as he admired the elegance in her casual choices. Eyes scanned down the light, loose-fitting top that barely draped over her shoulder, onto her hips, and over her legs. Something as cramped as skinny jeans and heeled boots looked cozy on her, almost natural versus her typical monochrome. It’s flowy, yet shapes her well; Even in something so simple, she left him breathless.

If only he could stare mindlessly like this for the night. “Hey!” Tifa spoke breathily, snapping Rude back in; her steps clicked quieter the closer she approached, arriving with a brimming grin. He couldn’t help but notice the small drops of sweat down her brow, and, with those shoes on, how close she was to his nose. It almost took away from how close she was. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Rude reassured. His eyes flickered down her frame once more, causing him to take a shifted step away. “I, uh, got off of work late. I just headed over here after I got done.”

“Then you should have texted me.” Tifa laughed, louder than he’d expect. Her nose crinkled without a smile when she laughed, with posture seemed stiff in her stance. He raised a brow.“Now I look bad for making you wait for me.”

“ Don’t worry about it. “ Rude said simply. A freehand scratched the back of his head. "It wasn’t that long.”

“Then the last thing I need to do is keep you waiting longer,” Tifa took a deep breath. After a hesitant thought, she found her arm interlocked around his. Hand resting gently on his forearm, leaving him silent immediately. She looked up at him again; a smile graced across her face one more. Her nose wrinkled again. “Shall we grab a bite? You must be starving.“

Rude could barely get a sound out before she’s walking him through the dinky diner’s front door. The restaurant itself wasn’t anything to write home about-- age showed through the torn nylon chairs and tinted glass windows. The lights hung low, basking an orange hue throughout the green and grey furniture that brought both warmth and nostalgia in its own way. He noted the worn wooden tables as she pulled her through; each table had its etchings and marks to define all those who came through. Faded stories that lingered, thanks for commoner’s graffiti. It had a natural charm, unlike the classier places he’d go for lunch. Its character was a secret beauty, something that fit her perfectly.

Side eyes were immediately on the pair, as were the quiet mutterings amongst patrons. People who saw him outside raised their brows at the contrast in their looks. Some were openly commenting on how a “thug” like him could be with a “nice girl” like that. He didn’t respond--more so he couldn’t; the tightening of his throat withheld the sharper responses he had to say. Those words dissipated to nothing as he felt the tightening of Tifa’s embrace on his arm. It was brief, lingering as a second of sharpness. She brought the two of them to the farthest booth in the back, away from the crowd, where they both sat down across from each other. Once settling, the silence fell over them.

“This place is really good, promise you.“ Tifa hummed, holding her chin by the palms of her hands. “It’s probably older than both of us combined, but the food is excellent.“

“ Right.” Rude cleared his throat as he looked to the flimsy, plastic menu off to the side. One touch alone and a film of sticky residue coated his fingertips. “I’ll trust your word on it.”

“Really now?” Tifa nodded her head to the side. “How much do you trust me?”

Rude raised a brow as he wiped his palms. “Why do you ask?”

“Let me order for us.” Before Rude could even respond, Tifa was already motioning for a waiter. “We can share something. It’ll be sweet, like Lady and the Tramp.”

He hesitated even to answer, taking a sharp breath at the statement. It’d be easy to say _that’d be nice,_ but all he could muster was a small nod. His focus seemed stuck on her as she spoke with full confidence for the special of the week: some overdone gimmick pizza for Instagram. It’d be a miracle if they could both stomach it when it comes out.

Yet, Tifa’s energy seemed to vary with time, and those little differences became prominent. With this complete stranger, her smile was dim. All of it felt surface level; like a show to get through. The interaction was short, but it bothered him. Why did she smile without moving her eyes? Why does her nose crinkle alone at adjacent comments from strangers who didn’t know her? It seemed unlike her.

But, who was he to assume? He didn’t know her either. “Hey, Rude--” Tifa interjected, bringing him back to her eyes. Her gaze lit up again; her energy brimmed stronger. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

He quickly cleared his throat. “I don’t have much to say.”

“Hm, sounds like an excuse.” Tifa tilted her head. The waiter comes back around to place glasses of water for the two of them. Rude’s attention flickered. The waiter’s side glance at him wasn’t comforting. “I mean, from what I know, it seems like Reno likes to talk for you. ”

“He likes to be heard.” Rude’s quick to speak, his focus snapping back to her-- or at least, to something next to her. His uneasy glance hidden beneath his shades helped him to avoid direct eye contact. Something in his stomach began to sink -- was he nervous? “... He’s just like a feral cat. But louder.”

“That’s a term for it,” Tifa’s free hand clicked her nails against the cheap restaurant glass. A weary chuckle left as she said: “Maybe you should put a muzzle on him?”

“He’d probably like that too much--” Before he could catch his words, they shot out without much thought. Rude halted a stifled smirk, quickly turning away out of his own clumsiness. Tifa, yet, laughed.

“Well, I got two new facts today, “ Tifa raised two fingers. “ **One** : you’re really funny when you don’t overthink. And **Two** : Reno likes to share his kinks with you. That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

Rude’s throat got tense. He scanned over her enthused reaction, seeing the smile in her eyes and lack of scrutiny in her expression. It’s comforting, but the most he could give a weary shrug.

“Are you nervous?” Tifa asked.

“No.”

“Then do you like talking to me or…”

“I do.”

“Hmm, interesting…” Tifa’s eyes seemed to wander down him, making him tenser. Nerves weren’t the right word for how he felt. Lost was a better explanation, and to a degree, she’s right. Rude’s over-analytical, constantly thinking in technical terms. It’s easier for him to do his job, as he could separate his own feelings from the equations. Yet, with her, it’s hard to stay by the books when his thoughts go beyond mere writing. So, his words got stuck within his throat. The best he could do was drown it with cold tap water from his cup. “... Guess I’ll have to force something out of ya.”

If he didn’t catch himself, he may have choked right in front of her. “Force _what_?” Rude followed in a low gruff.

Tifa raised both palms towards him. “Twenty questions-- that’s all I’ll bully out of ya. With respective returns, of course. Then we can eat in silence if you’d like.”

And there it was again-- a genuine smile. A quick glint of curiosity shone in Tifa’s eyes, as did the sound of a passing car that illuminated her face. Her face looked relaxed, not contorted by strings of stranger’s judgment. Was she curious? Even comfortable around him? The stray comments about them seem to creep from corner to corner, but he found a way to block it out.

Rude kept his eyes on her. And her continued, glowy look took his breath away.

“... Only twenty,” Rude mumbled, shifting his gaze to the window as cars seem to pass them by on the other side. The light of them showed the glint of optimism through his dark shades. “If it’d make you happy.”

“It would.“ The warmth of her smile warmed his cheeks. He didn’t need to see it to know. Tifa rested her head in her hands once more. She seemed to hum into the air, thinking of the right words to start off with. “... Now, my first question: What do you like to do in your free time?”

Rude gave a small scoff. “Guess you’re throwing softballs at me?”

“Felt like I needed to ease you in since you ‘ _don’t have much to say,_ ’” Tifa’s voice mocked a robotic tone as she spoke. “You must have something you like to do when you’re not working.”

“I do enough.” Or not, as he contemplated that thought. With hesitation, he crossed his arms, almost as if he forgot about having a life outside of the nine-to-five. “Like… uh, jiu-jitsu, reading, bird watching--”

“Bird watching?” Tifa perked up. All while he could feel himself sinking deeper into his seat. “So, you hang out with the old guys at the park, with the bowl hats and binoculars?”

“No,” he has only done it twice. “We get a lot of them at my apartment, often hanging out on the roof when I’m trying to read. They’re fun to watch fly around… normally, they’re pretty friendly.”

“Normally?”

“Reno learned the hard way.”

A small laugh left Tifa’s lips. An easy one without force. “Well, if I get to meet them, they're friendly to me-- not assuming anything, I mean.”

It wouldn’t be out of his imagination. A nice Sunday morning with her, sitting upon a high rooftop to watch the city grow more active as the minutes clicked on. Coffee would be in hand, and their eyes would be on the birds as they flocked from rooftop to rooftop. An easy morning that brought warmth to Rude’s stomach. But, even when she brought it up, it felt too rash to suggest. The stilted man simply cleared his throat, directing his attention to the window beside him. “What about you?” Rude mumbled under his breath. “Hobbies, I mean.”

The energy shifted; Tifa’s smile hesitated back into neutrality. For a moment, she didn’t feel as candid. Her body shifted back into her seat, eyes still bored on him. Finger tapped against the water glass in a steady fashion. “I’m boring,” Tifa sighed. Her tone felt flimsy, lacking in the humor she displayed earlier “Runs with Cloud on Wednesdays, martial arts with Barret on Thursday... shopping with Aerith on Fridays… Simple stuff, you know?”

“She must be annoyed,” Rude added. “Aerith, I mean. Didn’t mean to take her day.”

“As long as I’m enjoying myself, she wouldn’t care, right?” Tifa took a slow breath, before raising a brow. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Did it seem like he wasn’t? Rude bit down on his tongue once more, stopping himself from saying anything too rash or bold. The most he could bring out was a gentle nod of his head. His voice went small as he said: “Of course.” He leaned gently back in, with his full attentive focus on her. Briefly, a hint of her perfume crossed his nose -- a hidden sweetness beneath the savory atmosphere. It was a simple temptation, one that helped bring the truth out. “Remember, I’m not much of a talker,” and frankly, he didn't want to fall on his face. But, Rude continued, “I am having a good time. Trust me.”

That admission helped the aura between them. “I’m glad.” Tifa followed with her energy picking back up. "Anyway, that’s the perfect segway to my next question,” A sly look came across her face, along with another glint of light from the passing cars outside. “When we first met, what did you think of me?”

Instantly, he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Rude's immediate reaction got stuck in his sudden stammer, and, again, a clearing of his throat. “I’d like to abstain from that.” Rude cut off. “What’s your next question?”

“Hey, no skipping!” Tifa leaned and, in a swift motion, she across and tapped gently on his relaxed hand. “Besides, wouldn’t you wanna know what I thought about you?”

“I don’t--” Rude caught her glance again. He’d never expect to be on the receiving end of a puppy dog look, but there was the request in her eyes. The longer he stared, the easier his words seemed to slip out. “... I’ve seen you around, didn’t have much to say,” He explained, albeit loosely. He’d be lying to say she didn’t catch his wandering gaze every morning. But like her, he had scripts to follow -- no point in talking to someone he may never see again. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

“But, then you said ‘ _fuck, my coffee_ ’, and apologized immediately.” Tifa laughed again.“Very eloquent for our first conversation.”

A brief smile tugged at Rude’s lips. “Surprised you even remember that.”

“Oh, I was _terrified,_ ” Tifa spoke with exaggerated gestures. “I stood there, watched you, and went ' _shit, this guy is intimidating as hell, and I spilled his drink_.’ I was _not_ expecting an apology.” The way her eyes lit up reminded him of that. How they both stood mortified. Just like he was when she disrupted his typical order. “Now, here I am, a couple of weeks later, I’m having dinner with the same guy. Sounds like the start of a bad movie when I think about it.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way. “It started something.”

“Yeah, it did.” A silence settled between the two of them, lingering on their last words. The air between them became easy, almost relaxing the more they spoke. Despite how often choked up Rude got when finding the right words, she kept it easy. He didn’t have to be the quickest wit or suave for her attention. She already sat there, eager for his next words. Ready to listen, and ready to understand. He kept falling harder by the second, more vulnerable to her words and her whims. And he was okay with that. “Now, my third question,” Tifa interjected, lips pursed. “what’s your favorite color?“

A small snort left Rude’s nose. “Really? After that last one?“

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?”

Tifa really beat him to it. He looked back at her as another passing car illuminated her eyes. “... Dark amber.” Rude mumbled.

“Wow, so sophisticated.” She chuckled. “Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s a natural color.” And it wasn’t his favorite. But it was easy to describe what’s in front of him. “It’s nice to look at.”

His words had a double edge to it; one she still took with pride. She got more relaxed. “Glad to know,” Tifa followed. “Dark amber is the perfect shade for good, smooth bourbon, so I get the appeal… Do you drink?”

“Rarely,” an easy answer. “But sometimes I end the day with a nightcap.”

“You really are an old man.” But it raised Tifa’s interest. Her brow raised just enough. “If you’re really interested, after dinner, we can grab a drink.” Tifa’s posture stiffed up -- her hands collapsed together firmly to hide her expectancy. It felt unreal that she expects such an immediate answer, especially from him. “But only if you answer all my questions.”

Her soft gaze made him melt; for once, he felt comfortable. "I’d like that.”

And in a split second, he saw that twinkle once more. Happiness weaved into Tifa’s words subtly, laced with silent playfulness. “Then, here’s my next question…”

===============


	3. The Aftermath

Throughout the night, Tifa clasped her hands tightly together. Veins popped through the pressure where she felt the beat of her heart throughout her body. She could feel the nerves wrack her body, tensing her posture. Rude’s relaxed demeanor helped calm her mind and allowed her to talk more freely, even if it made her look foolish.

Her eyes lit up at every new fact and detail she learned. The once complicated imaginary idea of Rude became a refined picture that spoke louder than her thoughts. Refinement revealed itself through the visual cues, beyond the words she convinced him to say. Like the slight slur at the end of his statements because of his constant slow speech, or the flicker of teeth when he smirked. It'll never be a full grin, but it was enough when he laughed. A rare sight, Tifa never caught beyond their shorter interactions. He had a beautiful aura, radiated by the passing car lights from outside. Warmth cracked through his aloof facade.

More so when she broke the tightening grip, she held against herself. Her gentle fingers slipped between Rude’s resting hands on the table. At first, he seemed hesitant of the gesture; she could feel him freeze up by touch alone. But once he looked back at her and caught her hopeful gaze, it took him little time to hold her hand back. By then, she couldn’t hear the judgemental whispers.

Rude paid for dinner, despite her insistence. And so in return, she’d grab the drinks. And lucky for him, she knew the best place to get them.

* * *

This distinguished bar was well-known amongst Tifa’s closest group of friends. It was on the 4th floor of a Redstone apartment complex, protected by a wooden door and flimsy glass. The accent up to the location was accompanied by age-worn stairs that creaked with each step and tiled floors for each level. It was a sign of the clash for the place -- fighting ongoing development and the good ol’ days. Another character that fits her well.

The bar entrance wasn’t glamorous; it hid behind another wooden door with a busted plate that swung on one screw. Yet, the inside told a different tale. An old and worn studio, like the building it resided in, but the red bricks on the interior breathed new life with the wall of string lights on top of it. The old school kitchen had a small wooden table as a makeshift island, settled between as a border for the living room. Her bed was hidden behind sheer curtains, bordered by the sole window within the apartment. The only other places to sit was a college-worn futon and the old bar stools that stood next to the table. One of which Rude took for himself. Tifa’s place was an iconic place for her friends to come together and revel in a long day.

“ … And now introducing my beautiful ladies!” Tifa slammed open the tall cabinet to reveal the well-stocked array of liquors and wine. The various shades of opacity was set in a clever ombre; the amber and darker liquors settling near the bottom self-reflected to her admitted taste. Those with easy access held minimalistic labels, and most of them only had a third of what was in it. She held specific tastes and showed it with her favorites.

And if they played the cards right, maybe they could finish off the rest of it later

“Little known thing about Lockharts is that we always keep a well-stocked liquor cabinet.” Tifa followed as she picked up three bottles. She felt the peering of her guest, accepting the respectful glances. They were well-meaning, yet crawled up her spine, only to settle back on her face as she turned back around. A moment of hesitation graced the air as she caught her breath. Her eyes settling on his.

“You took off your glasses,” She muttered, followed with a growing grin. She gently set the bottles down; her eyes lingered over the dark shades as they hung off the collar of his shirt. “Is it hard for you to see here? I could turn more lights on if you’d like.”

“Ah, I’ll be fine.” Rude muttered back, slowly turning his face away. Tifa walked around him, flickering a look back to his face, noting his turned gait. Rude’s expressions became more clear as he put down his own wall. His assumed thousand-yard stare was more vibrant than he let on. He didn’t want to be too bold, she assumed through his indirect gaze. The baby steps were much appreciated.

“Most normal people don’t wear sunglasses indoors anyway.” Tifa teased as she pulled glasses out of the cabinet. “You look nice with or without them.”

“Mhm.” Rude placed the palm of his hand over his mouth, attempting to hide as he looked directly at her. A glass gently clicked against the grain of the table in front of Rude as she set the glass down. There was no time to react as Rude watched Tifa take the seat beside him and reach out to the bottles across the table. Within that single movement, he could catch a better scent of the perfume that lingered on her. A subtle scent that reminded him of a warm blanket during fall. It brought him in gently, made him pause until she sat properly next to him. The click of the largest bottle against the table made him lean back.

“We’ll start with my top three, working our way to the top.” Tifa hummed as she took the most obscured looking bottle. Gold detailing etched across the round, potion-like bottle, giving an allure of priciness and wealth. It didn’t fit her. But she proceeded to pour the dark liquid in both of their cups. “This guy’s the least interesting of the three, but still worthwhile.”

“ It smells bitter. “ The drink reeked of burntness so much it made Rude cringe his nose. The opaque drink felt like oil as he swirled it around, thick and overtly intoxicating. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of thing.”

“You gotta taste it to believe it,” Tifa lifted the drink to the hanging light to show the slight shimmer that came of it. “She’s sweet when you sip her -- she’s the Black Mountain. My first big girl whiskey.”

Tifa clinked the glass against his, leaving it to echo in his silence. He’s hesitant, but he still brought the liquor to his lips out of politeness; the bitterness chilled, like a morning cold brew. As she promised, sweetness followed with hints of vanilla as it burned down his throat. It was intense, almost as if it burned deep into his core with a thick coating of chocolate and processed sugars. For once, Rude was baffled at the choice. “...She’s interesting.”

“Got her when I got this place,” Tifa hummed as she tipped the drink to her lips. Her response followed with a small shiver of her body as warmth enveloped her. “It was the housewarming gift from my dad; told me his daughter deserves the best to, and I quote, ‘ _get fucked-up on_ ’”

A scoff left Rude’s lips. “That’s encouraging.”

“It’s the truth,” Tifa grinned back. “First night here, I invited Cloud and Aerith over to celebrate -- all I had was that futon and this table. Three of us took on half of this big boy and was on the ground for the rest of the night. Barely could stand, barely could think. By 2 o'clock in the morning, we were out cold.”

“How could you tell?”

“The sound of the street cleaner comes around then.” Tifa nodded her head to the wide window diagonal to them, showing part of the busy street below petering out to inactivity. “The noise of grinding brakes always sets the mood for bedtime.”

Rude gave a small chuckle, cradling the rest of his drink. “Sounds like you had a fun time.”

“And you could too if you quit babysitting, ” She gave a small nudge of his arms with her elbow, creeping closer as she did. Tifa’s eyes lit up to see the enjoyment creep across his face. It’s as if she was finally cracking open a bit more of his shell. And the idea of it made her heart flutter a bit more. “Good whiskey should be savored, but I have two better drinks that I think you’ll enjoy more.”

“I can’t imagine that,” the more of the first whiskey he drank, the more its intensity enveloped him into a comfortable space. The tight guidelines he tried to follow started to blur with the warmth, allowing him to lull into silence more. Not in an overtly calculated way but more relaxed. He felt braver, but not enough to step out of bound. Rude’s eyes lingered over the last inch of his drink and sipped the rest of it down, letting the latter feelings settle in his stomach. Regret came from a Black Mountain, he supposed.

He slid the glass over, “next round?”

“Round two, coming up,” Tifa chuckled as she pulled the next bottle over. The next contender looked to be a standard bourbon -- a plain bottle with a tan sticker on the top. The whiskey’s top had a distinct corked top, with bits of the tape still on it. Unlike the first drink, this one had more liquid sitting in it. “ Introducing Miss Colonel Taylor: she’s a bit lighter, but the flavor hit’s closer to the soul.”

“That’s an interesting way to look at it.” Rude tilted the bottle towards him, looking over the colorful printed label. The decorative writing and faux parchment paper looked fake, with the bourbon inside giving a faint golden color. A complete contrast to the fuller liquor she introduced before. “It’s a bit… plain. Compared to the last one, I mean.”

“Hey, don’t judge a bourbon by its label,” Tifa took the bottle away, pouring the next drink into his cup. “Judge by their finishes; the first sip is not always an indicator of how good it is.”

“... Do you know from experience? ”

"Hm, I dunno,” Tifa gave a small smile on the surface. Deeper, she felt her heart skip by a beat.“ You tell me, Rude.”

Rude let out a small huff. His eyes followed her hands as she proceeded to pour herself a cup. Unlike the murky whiskey where she plopped it in, she handled the second bottle with a skillful pour, with little to no disruption. It was a delicate gesture, followed by her lifting the cup to eye level.

“Now this one isn’t simply a chug and go, like the last one,” Tifa continued, looking back over to him. “It’s a fresher taste that you gotta give it a whiff first before drinking. It’s kinda energizing, as my dad would say.”

Rude raised a brow as he lingered over the drink’s scent. While the other felt like an early morning cup of coffee, the bourbon brought cool afternoons in the fall with a sting of alcohol. Like fields of fresh crops and apple trees, a vibe completely opposite to the concrete jungle they were sitting in. She’s right; the scent felt homely but energizing. “All this runs in the family?”

“That’s what the country can give ya.” Tifa’s eyes fell to her glass with softness. Her finger traced the rim as she muddled over her words. “My dad has the actual talent and works at a distillery back home. I just stole his interest and made whiskey tasting look cool.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed looking at you.” Rude took a lingering sip; the faint drink felt richer on the tongue, with a burn of autumnal spices. Once again, a sweetness lingered on his tongue but not as coated as the first. It was refreshing like as she said. Just like getting to know another aspect of her through a different lens. He couldn’t stop staring at her as he sipped the drink. “It’s a cool interest, I mean.”

“This drink helped guide me to it.” Tifa took a sip with him. She proceeded to play with the bottle by lightly twirling it on the bottom ring. Once again, her attention seemed lost on the cheap liquor and nostalgia. A natural smile formed, with her eyes almost illuminating as she talked. It’s a small, but notable difference in her demeanor. “Pops always had this bottle in his cabinet unopened, almost staring me down since I was a kid. Told me it’ll be better when I’m older.” She stood the bottle tall and clicked it against the table. “The first time he came to this apartment is when we finally popped her open… he taught me how to properly enjoy a good drink with good company.”

Another indirect comment seemed to resonate with him. Rude hesitated, only sipping away at that nostalgic feeling in his cup. Tifa meanwhile cradled her chin in her hand, keeping her drink close to her. Her eyes still placed on the old bottle as they lingered in comfortable silence. 

Tifa could feel the buzz of the alcohol drift into her head, leaving goosebumps on exposed skin. She was a lightweight for a sleepy moment; as time seemed to pass them by, she felt her body lean into his space. Like their small moment at the restaurant, Rude hesitated. But unlike earlier in the night, he didn’t wait to respond. His arm wrapped around her waist to keep her supported, gently pulling her, and the stool closer to him. The weight of his hand on her thigh made her skin buzz more.

Tifa’s eyes flicked to Rude and his empty cup. She noted his attention away from her, once again hiding within his own hand. She smiled. “An empty cup is a good sight to see.” Tifa hummed, directing her attention to her own empty cup. “What do you think?”

Rude’s fingers curled into his palm as he took a glance at Tifa. The longer he sat, the more the alcohol lingered through his body. His rational thought remained in his head as different words lingered on his tongue. Before he got the chance to think, he responded: “You’re lovely.”

Tifa’s head immediately perked at the comment. For a second, she could feel a small flash of warmth across her cheeks. In that same second, Rude choked on his own words. “Lovely?” Tifa asked, followed with a snort. “Well, that’s the boldest thing you’ve said all night.”

“I-it’s the whiskey. The whiskey was lovely.” Rude could barely get out as he cleared his throat. The next thing he saw was her hopeful gaze towards him, leaving him even more stunned. There goes that beautiful amber gazing back at him. In that second, he couldn’t feel the nerves. “It… slipped out.”

“Mhm, a likely story.” Tifa hummed again, once again cradling her chin in her palm. “You’re funny when you don’t overthink.”

“You’ve already said that tonight.”

“I like to emphasize it.” She could feel herself leaning in closer. All her weight seemed to be pressed against him, and yet she felt so light. “I’m kinda a broken record.”

“I’ve noticed,” but he could listen to her all day. Rude’s voice grew low in the rising silence. His eyes lost sight of her bright eyes and lingered down to her brightening smile. A light shine came across her lips when the light hit her right; remnants of her lip gloss. The look alone seemed sweeter than the liquor. “... Do you want to try the last bottle?”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Tifa sighed, reaching across the table. “You’re really distracting, you know that?”

“I could say the same.” Rude muttered as he shifted his position -- his arm moved from her waist to cover her shoulders as he leaned into her. He’s heavy, and, progressively, his weight becomes more noticeable to her. Those goosebumps returned aggressively where he pressed against her. His deeper breath became more noticeable the closer he got. While he doesn’t open up with words, his comfort showed in his proximity. And that, to Tifa, was distracting.

Those drinks must be stronger than she thought. “This last bottle’s your favorite?“ Rude followed, his eyebrows raised at the plain-looking bottle. The clear bottle showing a golden liquid and an unopened, black tip. “You haven’t even touched it.”

“I’m opening it now, aren’t I?” Tifa ripped the paper wrapper from the top, proceeding to open the bottle in a smooth fashion. “I asked my dad to ship me a new recommendation off my description… So, while I haven’t tried it yet, it could be an instant favorite. You never know.”

He couldn’t follow, even beyond the growing haziness. Rude’s eyes followed her motions as she poured both of them a respectable amount, hit with a lighter scent -- something woody, more homely. It’s bright but doesn’t attack the senses like the last two. The light scent was welcoming, maybe a bit weak. But it felt familiar to the whiskeys he was used to -- a calm end to a long day. Rude took his free hand to lift the glass, marveling more at the royal color. “This one seems promising.”

“Pops knows how to pick them,” Tifa clicked the ring of her glass gently with the bottle tip, topping herself off. “He’s been so worried about me coming to the city and meeting decent people. So, when I told him I wanted to find a whiskey that reminded me of a guy I’ve been seeing, he wanted the right fit.” A waver followed in her voice as she took the glass in hand, raising it close to her nose. He could see the slight nervous tremor of her hand. The crinkle in her nose returned with her smile. He’s stilted. “I wanted something subtle to the eye, but comes with a deeper profile than you’d expect. Something that’s gentle but rich, something that warms the heart after a long evening.”

Her eyes dimmed within the second, as did her trembling. Confidence fledged with her comments, dwindling back into the silence. Rude lingered over her words, hazy on the meaning yet fully knowing what she meant to say. The brush of his breath against her cheek felt lighter the more she spoke. The right words were once again tied up in his throat, lost within his sober nerves and buzzed intentions. He wanted to let it all out in a flurry -- how content to know she was thinking of him, how grateful he was to be beside her. How he _wants_ to stay beside her.

But more superficially, his eyes kept flickering to her growing smile once more, and how he wants to be closer.

“It’s super corny, I know,” Tifa followed with a giggle. “The whiskey’s even called ‘ _The Quiet Man_ ’; like, Pops couldn’t get more on the nose with it--”

“I like that.” Rude’s words spoke before he could think it through, but he wasn’t going to linger on it. His attention placed solely on her, and not his words. “I like the sentiment. I really do.”

And like the diner, her eyes shone brightly under the dim lights. “I’m glad to know that.” Tifa’s words eased into their shared silence. The elongated moment was enough to quirk a smile out of him; one he quickly tried to hide with a light chuckle and his hand over his mouth. Rude’s growing acceptance rose with her confidence. With a free hand, she brushed his cheek closest to her, tracing circles onto his jaw. “ You haven’t even touched your drink yet,” Tifa teased, guiding his attention back to her. “How do you know if you’re gonna like it or not?”

He felt buzzing beneath her touch. But instead of a stiff response, Rude chuckled lowly once again. “Guess I’ll have to trust your judgment.”

“Right answer,” She dragged her thumb off his chin and, in one motion, tapped the rim of his still drink. “Don’t waste a single drop.” 

“Whatever you say,” and he raised the glass and clinked it against hers. Just as he brought the glass to his lips, Rude’s eyes lingered on Tifa waiting intently. She made the tiniest motion to encourage him, garnering another smile as he took a long sip. The whiskey fit her M.O. of her preferred drinks: sweet, but palatable. Like liquid honey has touched his tongue, followed with a light, velvety burn of peppery oak and morning marmalade. The liquor laid easy in his stomach, ruminating ease throughout his body that could send him to sleep any moment. Although it wouldn’t be his first choice, the glint of delight in her eyes would make him chug the entire bottle, only for her. “It’s decent,” Rude hummed back as she took a long drink herself. Tifa’s face seemed to wrack in both awe and curiosity as she defined the flavor herself. “You have good tastes.”

“I’d like to think so,” Tifa’s words bubbled from her slow sip, all the way down to the bottom of the cup. The only source of courage she had burned down her throat. Afterward, she noted all her attention back to Rude and the lack of distance between them. The limited space leaned him in closer, with Rude’s forehead nearly rested onto her. His breath reeked of alcohol, blurred together with a clean cologne she could breathe in deeply. It’s strange how much her stomach fluttered at the sight of him. How all her attention is sworn into his light hazel eyes and how vibrant they were looking back at her. Those earthy tones in his look were mesmerizing, affectionate. They only saw her, and her alone.

And that took her breath away. “I thought it’d be a nice thing for us to share,” Her voice laid low. Tifa proceeded, remaining as calm as she could. “Every bottle has a story behind it, and I wanted to have one with you.” Amber eyes flickered to Rude’s lips -- a small smirk formed on his face with a flicker of teeth, just like before. “And uh, we can do this more often. Maybe a bit more seriously.”

For how bold she wanted to be, her tender tone spoke the loudest tonight. They both struggled with speaking their intentions out in the air. Rude got stuck on the same script daily, erasing his own personality with what’s safe. Tifa fell into a false confidence act, forced to be what others expected from her. So, seeing Tifa be honest with what she wanted, taking charge despite her own apprehension, struck a chord within him.

Alcohol or not, he felt gutsy; a bit careless. “I’d like that,” Rude’s voice hummed into the silence. She could feel his weight off of her shoulders as she shifted herself to face him more directly. The stools beneath them shook gently at the shift; the move made Rude to sit up more stiffly, to move his posture to look at her dead-on once more. He’s stuck on her smile again: “can I be honest with you?”

Tifa nodded her head to the side. She reached to his jaw again, cupping his cheek. “what’s up?”

In the same motion, Rude felt his body lean closer to her. Even before he could find a better way to say what’s on his mind, he breathed deeply: “I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

In that second, both of them seemed stifled for air -- as if all was sucked out of the room. Shock wracked Tifa’s face, staring back at Rude with wide eyes like dinner plates. Yet, in the next second, her surprise turned to laughter and a quirked brow. She leaned in as well, taking her other hand and slipping it into one of his.“Really?”

He nodded.

“You must be drunk.” Tifa could feel the warmth in her face grow, alongside a sudden rush of guts hit her. She let out another light fit of laughter before lingering close to his face again. The mere inches between them were agonizing alone. “... do you mean kiss as in--” --she propped herself up and placed her lips on his open cheek. Her daringness only took her as far as she leaned back in front of him. “... something like this?”

“... Not quite. “ Rude mumbled before slowly breaking her hold on him as he cupped her face. He lingered, looking back at her amber eyes before leaning in for the kiss. Five seconds, a tender peck. That was the extent of their first kiss-- yet, the way her fingers curled into the arms of his shirt made him want to take her in, to taste more of her whiskey burn and cherry lip gloss. But, the nerves arose again, and he finally pulled away before getting too carried away. The gap was finally filled with her body and their alcohol stained breaths. He felt his own body quiver as he spoke: “... Something like that. Something memorable.”

If only the sensation didn’t dissolve so soon -- the need for his presence felt overwhelming. Almost welcoming. An experience she wanted to relive over, and over, all for the lingering feeling of his embrace. “I don’t think I get it,” Tifa mumbled into his lips. “Can you show me again?”

Even before they could think, Rude pulled her back in.

============================

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was going to be more ~explicit~ but I felt like I needed the ~softness~ before the dirt, ya get me? But if this does have a bit of traction, I'd love to add a 2nd date up as a fourth, bonus chapter later. ;) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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